The Foolish Mistress
by Feagalad
Summary: "Anyone I catch talking about this young lady will first be beaten to death, and then burned alive, and after that be kept on bread and water for the next six weeks!" Face it - Lasaraleen would have been easy to manipulate. Read here how her slaves dealt with her silliness.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I own nothing but my OC's.

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"Everyone to the front gate, hurry!"

Cerine rushed to the gate. "Admanth, what's happening? Is something wrong?"

"Mistress Lasaraleen is returning from her little outing." The doorkeeper made a face. "I see no reason for the entire household to assemble to welcome her back, but you know how she is."

Cerine resisted the urge to roll her eyes to the kitchen and back; oh yes, she knew only too well. As Lasaraleen's personal attendant, Cerine was well acquainted with her mistress' whims.

The four bearers carefully set the litter down, and Cerine rushed to draw back the curtain. Out stepped Lasaraleen, looking hot and flushed, but still puffed up with importance. Behind her came a girl, about Cerine's own age. Lasaraleen was about to sweep into the house when the girl, tugging on her sleeve, urgently whispered something to her.

"Sorry, darling, it had gone right out of my head."

_ "__What doesn't?"_ Cerine thought to herself.

Lasaraleen interrupted any further insulting thoughts. "Now listen, all of you. And you, doorkeeper, no one is to be let out of the house today. And anyone I catch talking about this young lady will first be beaten to death, and then burned alive, and after that be kept on bread and water for the next six weeks!"

At one time, Cerine would have been amused at such a ridiculous statement. Now she just felt disgusted.

It had been six months since the wedding of Anakrim and Lasaraleen. _Six months_ she had been in the household of the silly goose. Cerine had been one of Anakrim's wedding gifts to his bride. She had been presented alongside a chest of precious stones. Ever since, Cerine had served Lasaraleen's every whim.

Now she followed her mistress into the house, staring curiously into the house, staring curiously at the ragged stranger.

"Cerine!" shouted Lasaraleen, although the slave was already standing right there. "Come and draw a bath for Aravis."


	2. Placebo Effect

**Author's Note: **Well, it's been a while. This fic is coming slowly, partially because it's more of a progression of separate, but chronological, events than a single story. Oh well - enjoy!

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"Cerine! Isn't that dinner tray ready yet?" Zareena, mistress of the slaves, put her hands on her hips in annoyance. "The new mistress is waiting anxiously!"

"I prepare as fast as I may." Cerine answered, rather crossly. She was trying to arrange the grapes as her mistress demanded – laying the vine out _just so_! Unfortunately, the stubborn fruit was fighting back with an unprecedented tenacity and nothing she did would make it behave. "Is that lobster ready?" She turned and barely resisted the urge to vent some spleen on a hapless kitchen worker who jumped like a mouse and brought the crystal dish of carefully cut lobster to Cerine's tray.

At last! Cerine abandoned the hopeless grape arrangement (with any luck Lasaraleen would be in her too-lazy-to-notice-anything mood today and not her faux-higher-criticism persona) and quickly took the tray up the stairs, precariously balancing a decanter of fine wine as she hurried through the marble hallways to Lasaraleen's chambers.

The lady in question was lounging on the new velvet and ivory sofa that Master Admanth had sent all the way to Doorne for. Cerine stifled a cough as she entered the room – it looked as though Lasaraleen had been generously sampling the new Terabinthian perfume only moments before and the pungent fragrance in the air was almost thick enough to cut with a scimitar.

"Y-your meal, Mistress." Cerine managed to speak through the fog.

"Place it there on the table." Lasaraleen waved a languid hand in the general direction of said table.

"Fresh lobster and a strawberry ice today, Mistress." Cerine bowed low as she set the tray down and backed towards the door. "Is there anything else, oh my mistress, that you desire of me?"

Laseraleen was oblivious to the scarcely-veiled sarcasm in that remark. (One shouldn't blame Cerine – it had been a trying morning between the incident of Lasaraleen's new brocade dress, an errant flock of passing birds, and the resulting clean-up headache and then Cerine's discovery that Laseraleen's oldest ruby necklace – the one she never wore nor remembered…until you didn't want her to – had turned up mysteriously missing.)

Lasaraleen inspected her meal as she gave out instructions. "Just run a dust cloth over the handrail, would you? I got a black smudge on my sleeve just this morning."

Oh yes – Cerine remembered _that _little disaster only too well. She took the end of her headscarf and wiped down the banister. "Girl!"

Lasaraleen complained from the sink. "This lobster has barely enough seasoning on it to warrant a second look. Take it back and fix it!"

"Yes, Mistress." Cerine murmured, removing the offending bowl of lobster and rolling her eyes as soon as her back was turned to Lasaraleen. She stepped outside of her lady's quarters, leaned against the wall, waited the appropriate amount of minutes, then re-entered and presented the 'fixed' dish with a flourish. "Here it is, my Mistress."

Lasaraleen took a critical bite, washing it down with a dainty sip of wine. "Yes. That's much better. See to it that you never commit the earlier fault again."

"Yes, Mistress." Cerine turned away to hide her smile and started plumping the silk and eiderdown pillows on the bed. The power of suggestion was great indeed!

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**(Second) Author's Note: **If anyone wants to suggest scenarios & subterfuge for Cerine to use against her mistress - be sure to PM/leave in a review and I will write about it.


	3. The Power of Suggestion

Tash preserve her; Lasaraleen _would_ have chosen that outfit to wear, wouldn't she? Cerine winced as she laced her mistress into the orange and pink dress, trying not to trip on the ridiculous train as she did so. She really hated this gown – hated it with a passion! Every time Lasaraleen wore it to a banquet she ended up spilling some of her wine on the bright pink underskirt (Cerine wasn't entirely sure how, she just knew that it happened) and every time that happened Cerine ended up taking hours to scrub the stain out by hand. It wouldn't have been so bad except for the fact that the brilliant colours of this particular dress faded so easily that it had to be handled with kid gloves. Getting all of the creases and layers pressed just so was just as big of a pain as washing the monstrosity…and don't even get her started on the headdress. Cerine knew she had to do something, and she had to do it fast!

"Well, slave, what are your thoughts?" Lasaraleen spun in a circle, letting the vivid pink, gauzy train twirl with her. With one hand she held onto the jewelled ringlet and tipped her head to one side coquettishly, making the adorning feathers bob like the south end of a peacock.

"O my mistress, it's…" Cerine paused for the appropriate amount of seconds as if searching for a word. "…it's _lovely_." She made sure to get the inflection _just right_ and waited with bated breath to see if the Tarkheena would get the point.

The lady in question spun to the Terabithian bureau and anxiously adjusted the headdress' feathery plumes. "What is it, girl?" She fretted, experimenting with a different drape of the gauze. "Do I not look the vision of loveliness."

"Mistress, you are indeed the embodiment of all things dazzling," Cerine lied through her teeth, trying not to choke on the words, "and could I say it without blaspheming, I should even go so far as to compare you to Zardeena herself – but about the gown..." She let her voice trail off and studied her bare toes in the submissive manner so handy for concealing treacherous expressions.

"What about it?" Lasaraleen demanded, voice taking on a rather shrill tone and losing the sophisticated drawl she usually put on. "I'm going to attend Princess Abdareena's banquet tonight, girl, so speak your mind."

Swallowing a smile and rejoicing that the hardest part of her plan had succeeded, Cerine stepped forward and put on her most comforting expression. "My Mistress, it is not that you fail to outshine the stars of the heavens but merely that your attire seems to conspire to conceal your radiance as a storm cloud does to the summer sun. Perhaps reconsider the white satin, which so perfectly compliments my mistress' rich colouring?"

Lasaraleen frowned and plucked at the brocaded silk with a pout. "But this is the dress I wanted to wear."

"I am truly sorry, O my Mistress, but you did order me to speak the truth which has just come from my mouth." This was the tricky bit – getting Lasaraleen to actually change her mind. Cerine knew that she could not lighten her attack for the battle was not yet over.

Lasaraleen turned around in front of the mirror, craning her neck and peering over her shoulder to examine herself from every possible angle. Cerine held her breath. If Lasaraleen didn't call her bluff (which had been known to happen once or twice, albeit rarely) then she might just be spared from cleaning that abomination that masqueraded as formal attire.

"Do you really think that it clashes?"

Victory! Cerine stifled a cheer and nodded earnestly. "I'm afraid it does, Mistress. Shall I lay out the satin?"

"Oh very well." Lasaraleen sniffed and flung the headdress aside. "I should have known that the tailor was cheating me." She flopped down on a chair (Cerine mentally groaned at the wrinkles she would now have to iron) and twirled a strand of dark hair absently.

Cerine busied herself laying out the white satin and the blue, spangled mantel for around her mistress' shoulders.

"Gracious!" Lasaraleen exclaimed as she suddenly sat upright. Her eyes narrowed in suspician as she looked her slave up and down. "Does this mean, girl, that my appearance at the water party of Tarkaan Agbar was not pleasing to the eye?" She looked quite distressed, almost peeved. Cerine cursed her ill luck – of all the times for her mistress to play at being perceptive! Lasaraleen was now wringing her hands in agitation. "And the Narnian nobles were there too. Oh, I've disgraced myself forever! Never shall I leave these walls again."

Now wasn't that a terrible thought: to be cursed to spend the rest of her life closeted away with Lasaraleen Tarkheena. This called for immediate drastic action. "I do not think that you disgraced yourself, O my Mistress." She tried to keep her voice calm and soothing as she laid out a diamond pendant and went to help Lasaraleen out of the offending dress. "This may not be the most flattering of choices, but nothing you wear could ever make you look less than the goddess you are." A bit of flattery was never misplaced.

Lasaraleen sniffed. "Really?" She murmured, sounding suddenly vulnerable.

Cerine felt little pity. "Indeed." She hoped that Tash would not punish her for her lies. "My Master made an excellent choice when he set his sights on you, Mistress." She handed Lasaraleen a cool, scented cloth. "Now wipe your face and cool your eyes so that I can finish preparing you for your party tonight."

"Of course, of course." Lasaraleen swiped at her face and turned to look in the mirror. "Draw up a quick bath, girl. This new outfit calls for a new hairstyle and perfume."

As Cerine entered the bathing room to draw up a tub of water, she pondered whether or not it might have been less work to just let her mistress wear that Devil's Dress. Well, at least Lasaraleen had not required her services to nurse the excellent lady through an emotional breakdown. Alls well that ends well…at least until the next banquet travesty.

**TBC...**


End file.
